In Dulci Jubilo
by Adam Shmadam
Summary: Harry/Ruth Christmas fluff of course!
1. Chapter 1

"I'm not saying I hate Christmas, Ruth."

She gave him a look like she didn't quite believe him.

"It's just that Christmas is more for kids and since my children spent most of their childhoods hating my guts, I don't have a whole lot of good memories about it…Well, until now." He pulled her closer, and ungracefully kissed her hair.

They had been walking hand-in-hand and Harry had led them away from the throngs of holiday shoppers.

"You still haven't told me what you'd like for Christmas," she continued.

"I have all that I want, Ruth." He was fiddling with the engagement ring on her finger.

"Charmer."

"Took you long enough to succumb to my charms, though." he grinned.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Harry managed to sneak in just before the music started, no thanks to the JIC chairman. Ruth tried to hide her disappointment when he had told her he wouldn't be able to make it. He hated letting her down, and consequently spent most of the day rearranging his schedule. He'd probably pay for it the rest of the week, but he didn't care. It was crowded, and the church interior was aglow and smelled vaguely of evergreen. It struck him that this was probably the first time he had been in a church and not for a funeral in a very long time.

The choir stood, and in one voice, the concert started. His eyes found her amongst the sopranos, and he tried, in vain, to pick her voice out from all the others. She had pulled her hair back, and she was beautiful. She sang with a great deal of concentration and something else that he couldn't immediately put his finger on. Sometime during the second piece it struck him – passion. She was happy, and his heart rejoiced in that knowledge. The music was very good, and after awhile, he felt the stress of the day slough off of his frame. For the first time in a long, long while the music of peace and joy that was surrounding him actually meant something to him. Against all odds, she had spotted him the crowd sometime during the Magnificat, and he couldn't help but grin back at her as a ghost of a smile crept across her face.

The concert was over, and the crowd had started filing slowly out. Harry was content in a way that only being able to unabashedly stare at his beloved for over an hour could produce. He picked his way through the throng towards her, and when he was close enough, he could see her questioning glance.

"I managed to move some things around," he shrugged. He took her hand, and planted a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Ruth! Are you coming?" one of her choirmates asked above the thinning crowd.

"They're doing drinks across the way, do you…?"

"If you'd like."

They were walking slowly to the pub, trailing discreetly behind the others.

"What do this lot know?" He asked, indicating the group ahead of them with a nod of his head.

"Just that I'm a researcher for a big firm in the City."

He glanced sideways at her and she shrugged,

"I purposely kept it vague, I didn't want to get tripped up later."

Curiosity surrounding the well-dressed man accompanying Ruth was high amongst the other members of the choir. Ruth was well-liked, but she kept herself to herself, and even those who professed to know her well, didn't really know that much about her life outside of the choir. They knew that her job was demanding, and she had to miss rehearsals on occasion because of work. One of the other sopranos' observational skills would've made for a good MI-5 recruit.

"I swear she has an engagement ring on her finger."

For someone who professed to hate receptions, Harry was doing a good job at working the room. Ruth had introduced him, and her heart fluttered a little bit when she did so; this being the first time she could say, "This is my fiancé." She shouldn't have been surprised at the ease in which he unwound his legend to her friends. He apparently was a banker in the City, and often had to travel abroad. Ruth made a mental note to remember that for the future. After talking a bit about the music (and here she was disproportionately proud that he was holding his own with the conductor about some somewhat obscure opera), the joint inquisition began.

"So, how did you two meet?" Ruth was tempted to tell the truth, if only to see Harry remove that smirk off his face. She decided to do one better.

"It's a long story. Harry tells it much better than I do, don't you, dear?"

He nearly choked on his wine at the uncharacteristic endearment. When he had gained his composure, he proceeded to tell the most complex, ridiculous anecdote of his entire career.

-X-X-X-X-X-

Ruth was on her way home, arms filled with grocery bags, when her mobile rang. Unceremoniously dumping the bags on the pavement in front of her, she dug her phone out of her pocket.

"Hi, Catherine."

"I've done it!" Harry's daughter crowed.

"Done what?" The possibilities were mind-boggling. Ruth sometimes envied Catherine's spontaneity.

"I've finally convinced Graham to talk to Dad."

Ruth was speechless. She knew that Graham's stubbornness to respond to any of Harry's attempts at communication where only matched by the depths of Harry's regret over his son.

"Ruth, are you there?"

"Yeah, sorry…" Ruth's silence started to worry Catherine.

"Did I do the right thing?"

"It's just that it's a bit of a shock, that's all."

"I just want to stop being the intermediary."

"I know. It'll be fine, as long as your father doesn't die from the shock."

_**x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x**_

_**More to come soon (hopefully!)….Please leave a review!**_


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Firstly, thank you for the lovely reviews, I appreciate them greatly! Also, I neglected to mention that this is a sequel of sorts to my story "Couplehood", although you could read this on its own.

After a solitary dinner, Ruth spent her evening trying to decorate for the upcoming holiday, but was distracted by thoughts of Catherine's news. _There's not a whole lot of decorating to do anyway_, she mused. She managed to unearth a box of her ornaments that have been in storage for years; she knows that Harry hasn't done a tree in ages and doubts if he has any ornaments to speak of. She wonders how he will handle seeing Graham. In all the time she has known Harry, she can count the number of times he's mentioned his son directly on one hand. But she is aware that he tries to call him at least once a month, and has been discretely checking police files for any mention of his name. She also knows that Harry bitterly regrets his failure as a father, and she's thankful that he and Catherine have managed (for the most part) to mend fences. From the bits she's gleaned from Catherine, though, she suspects a similar truce with Graham may be harder to come by.

Giving up on rearranging their meager Christmas cards for the third time, Ruth decided to take a long, hot bath and go to bed. Harry had texted to say the DG needed a "quick word" with him, but she knows from past experience that there is no such thing. He would be in Whitehall until late, and at least one of them needed to be rested for the morning briefing.

When Harry finally leaves the building, the wind has picked up considerably and it's bitterly cold. He drives himself home, vowing to himself that he'll buy Ruth a pair of gloves so she'll stop nicking his. He can't help but smile to himself when he thinks of her and wonders whether or not she's waited up for him. He entered the house as quietly as possible, just in case she's sleeping and was glad he did so when he realized she went to bed. She left a light on for him in the sitting room, and he noticed right away that there is an unfamiliar box in the corner. Although tired, he knows he's still too wired for sleep, and curiosity is getting the better of him anyway. The box is full of ornaments, and they are so Ruthin style, he can't help but smile. They are well-loved, and he wonders if some date back before her father's death. There are delicate snowflakes, some silver pinecones, and even an enameled set of figures representing the twelve days of Christmas. _My true love gave to me… _He hasn't bothered with a tree in years, for no particular reason except it seemed like a silly self-indulgence when one lived alone. But this Christmas is unlike any other, and makes a promise to himself for tomorrow.

She heard the tiniest click of the lock when he came in, but only because she was listening for it. After awhile, the downstairs lights were turned off, and he padded upstairs.

"Hi."

"Hi. I thought you'd be asleep."

"Bad day?"

"Hmm." It was more a sigh than a direct acknowledgement.

"God, Harry, you're freezing!" Despite her protestations, she pulled him closer.

"Sorry." He thought about the marked difference between his situation now and his first marriage. Back then, a late work night would have resulted in silent recriminations as opposed to acceptance and a welcoming embrace. He ever so softly kissed the nape of her neck, and whispered,

"Thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"Everything."

She smiled, and soon after the rhythm of his breathing told her he was asleep, she drifted off as well.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

It was only a week to go until Christmas, and Harry earlier in the week had relented about decorations on the Grid. Even Ruth hadn't anticipated the sight that greeted them when they emerged from the pods. Lights twinkled from previously dark corners and tinsel framed the computer monitors. Harry followed Ruth to her desk, then promptly kissed her in such a way that made Ruth's toes curl.

"What was that for?" she asked.

She followed his glance up above their heads and spied some mistletoe hanging down.

"Remind me to thank whoever put that up later," he chuckled, but made a note to himself to keep a particular eye on Dimitri.

It was a hectic day, and as it wore on even the decorations couldn't improve the mood. An important asset had gone missing, and efforts to locate him were proving difficult, hampered by bureaucracy more than anything else. On the plus side, a small terror cell was shut down, but the resulting debriefings and paperwork were likely to keep everyone running around until well after the new year. Harry left the Grid around lunchtime to rattle a few politicians and was gone much longer than Ruth had anticipated. By the time things had settled down a bit, it was already nearly seven. Bringing more files with her, she strode into Harry's office. _He looks adorable when he's rumpled_, she thought.

"Tell everyone to go home, Ruth."

"Are you sure?"

"There's nothing anyone can do until I smooth things over with the Home Secretary anyway. I'm on my way over there now, we can start fresh in the morning."

"I'll see you at home then," she gave him a quick kiss.

"Hopefully, you won't have to wait too long."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Ruth's nose was assaulted by the scent of evergreen as soon as she opened the door. In the corner of the sitting room stood a gigantic Christmas tree, already in its stand. _How much do I love him?_ Harry must have bought it while he was away at lunch and she marveled at how he got it through the doorway.

She was contemplating what to do about dinner when the doorbell unexpectedly rang. She thought it must be Catherine, although she usually called first. She must have looked shocked when she opened the door and saw who was standing there; the young man was taken aback for a second.

"I'm sorry, I was looking for Harry Pearce."

She would know those eyes anywhere. There was no doubt in her mind whatsoever that it was Graham on their doorstep.

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	3. Chapter 3

After some awkward and unnecessary introductions, she ushered him into the sitting room and motioned for him to sit down.

"Harry's at a meeting, but he should be back soon. Can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks," he said, a little curtly.

Rather than sit, he started to pace. It really was unnerving. He may have been thinner and slightly taller, but Graham looked so much like his father that it was as if Ruth had been put in a time machine and knocked back twenty-five years. He even had the same pout. Graham looked to her like this was the last place on earth he wanted to be. She wondered at Catherine's methods of persuasion.

"So, you're getting married?" he asked.

"Yes, but we haven't set a date yet."

"Good luck." He responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Before she could reply, Harry appeared in the doorway, and if he was surprised he didn't show it in his face.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Ruth retreated upstairs; father and son had a lot to talk about, and she thought it was better to leave them to it. She found a book and read the same paragraph five times without retaining any of it. She continued to hear a murmur of voices from downstairs, which she took as a good sign. As if on cue, once this positive thought crossed her mind, raised voices were punctuated by the front door being slammed.

Harry sat with his head in his hands, berating himself for what had just happened. It had been three years since he had clapped eyes on his son, much less talked to him, and it took about five minutes for all the old wounds to be ripped open. He should have been patient, let him say what he came to say. Instead, he treated him not unlike someone in an MI-5 interrogation room. He was so angry with himself, he barely registered Ruth entering the room, and putting her hand on his shoulder.

"Not now, Ruth!"

He got up, grabbed his coat, and strode out the door, almost before Ruth could react.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The Red Flash came soon after, while Harry was out God knows where. She was sad and angry, and silently cursed Graham as she took one last look at the still-undecorated Christmas tree before heading back to Thames House.

Intelligence had come in about a series of bombs in Central London over the next few days. The briefing was short and to the point, and everyone had their tasks to do. More than one person had noticed that Harry and Ruth had come in separately and neither had looked at the other, but none were stupid enough to voice their thoughts out loud.

Harry was on his phone when Ruth came in with the latest update. She placed the folder on his desk, but before she could leave the office, Harry had closed the door and leaned against it, barring her exit. He put his mobile back in his pocket and sighed.

"Forgive me?"

Her annoyance with him had somewhat abated since he had left, and looking at the worry on his face, it left her completely. She took a few steps towards him, and he bowed his head until their foreheads were touching.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. You…" Words were failing him, and she took his hands.

"Graham is…well, it's complicated. It shouldn't be, but it is."

"Sounds vaguely familiar," she smiled.

"I love you."

Beth caught Dimitri's eye and nodded her head towards Harry's office.

"All's well that ends well."

"Thank God for that, at least," Dimitri agreed.

"Thank God for what?" Tariq asked, having just come in.

Dimitri indicated the pair in the office, who were still in close conversation, and blissfully unaware of the attention they were attracting.

"Good. I was afraid of what the Christmas rota was going to look like if that continued much longer…"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The operation continued; the locations of the bombs were still unknown, but a few of the group behind the plot were located and under close surveillance. On the Grid, Christmas seemed like a surreal dream. While the public were shopping and celebrating, they were bent over reports and computer screens, scrutinizing the most random and tiny of details. Everything was starting to blur together.

"Ruth, go home."

"No, I'll stay."

"Go. You're dead on your feet."

"And you're not?"

"I'll need you tomorrow when things start happening. I just need to be conscious enough to not fall out of my chair while I tell the Home Secretary we are doing everything we can. Go. Beth and Tariq will be back in a few hours."

"I'll keep him company, Ruth," Dimitri chimed in.

She reluctantly acquiesced, and was glad she did so when even the cold air from outside failed to invigorate her. She was so tired, she was practically on top of Graham before she noticed him sitting on the doorstep.

"He's not with you?"

"No. He's working for the foreseeable future. Listen…I'm hungry and cold and tired, and you don't look much better. Why don't you come in, and we can at least stare at each other awkwardly in relative comfort?"

_**Thanks for the lovely reviews so far….I hope you are enjoying this! One (or maybe two more chapters of this to go, I think). Please click the button below…I am a review junkie! **_


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm sorry about the other night."

They are the first words Graham's uttered while she cobbled together an adequate but uninspiring meal for the two of them out of leftovers from the fridge.

"I was rude, and it was uncalled for." He briefly flashes her an apologetic grin that is so Harry, she's taken aback for a moment.

"Why are you here? And why now?" She's treading on dangerous ground; she can't help but be curious about Harry's son, but this isn't her battle to fight, either.

"Catherine, I suppose. It would be nice if my father and I could be in the same room together, maybe. I don't want to ruin her wedding…"

"You and Catherine are close?" She already knew the answer to that, but she thought that getting him talking about _something_ would be progress.

"She's always looked out for me…especially when my parents were too busy fighting to bother with us." There wasn't much she could say to that. They were silent for awhile, and then he continued,

"She likes you…"

"I like her. And if you thought that if you could get on my good side that would help you with your father, you'd be sadly mistaken." She smiled as she said it, and her gentle humor lit up her tired eyes.

"It was worth a try, however long the odds," he chuckled. "But I know my father well enough. It's all 'stiff upper lip' and 'no blindfolds while facing the firing squad' with him."

"But if you look closely, you'll see that the lip is not so stiff, sometimes." Her eyes were serious again.

"I just wish that I wasn't so rubbish with relationships…" he looked so young to her in that moment.

"I have news for you, Graham. Everyone is rubbish at relationships."

He looked shocked.

"But you and he…"

"We're spooks. How emotionally forthright do you think we are? I love your father with every fiber of my being, but that doesn't mean there aren't times I feel like killing him. Relationships are work. You're his son, and he loves you, Graham. No matter how much you push him away, he's still going to love you."

They talked a few minutes more, but it was apparent to Graham that Ruth was falling asleep where she sat. He left, but not before thanking her for dinner, and leaving her a slip of paper with a phone number on it to give to Harry.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Daylight was seeping in through the curtains when Ruth was vaguely aware of Harry's presence, sitting next to her on the bed.

"I didn't hear you come in."

"I didn't want to wake you."

"What time is it?"

"Early enough." She moved to get up, and he stopped her. "It's fine, you still have some time. Dimitri located the bomb about an hour ago. We'll let them stew in the cells for a bit."

"You look tired."

"Thanks. So do you…late night?"

"Graham was here." He stiffened, and she reached out and stroked his hand.

"It's okay…We talked for awhile. He left a number for you to call him."

Harry was speechless.

"I have a theory about you two," she continued.

"I would be surprised if you didn't."

"You are so alike, it's like you're two magnets with the same polarity, keep pushing each other away."

He leaned down and kissed her gently.

"Go back to sleep."

She gratefully turned over, and before she drifted off again, she heard Harry's voice…on the phone.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was Christmas eve and the party on the Grid was winding down. The stresses of the last few days' operations combined with the prospect of a few days off were a heady combination. There was much silliness, and perhaps a bit too much alcohol, although not enough to get Harry to do any karaoke. Ruth, feeling a little smug after finally picking up Harry's present without him knowing and perhaps pushed over the edge by that last glass of champagne, had belted out a very creditable rendition of Nina Simone that would stay in everyone's minds for quite awhile.

Daylight was fading as Harry and Ruth made their way home. It had started to snow, the flakes so light that they never really hit the ground, just floated in the air. The sight of the still undecorated tree irked Ruth.

"It's not too late, Ruth."

Harry had unearthed a box of decorations of his own, and Ruth noticed that most of them were handmade creations from his children from years ago. She suddenly missed Nico enormously.

Things had been in such a tumult the last few days, Harry was glad a few hours with just himself and Ruth. He enjoyed watching her decorate the tree, taking pleasure in something so _normal_. He abandoned his place on the couch, and put his arms around her from behind. She settled against him, and felt, rather than heard him compliment her handiwork.

"You've been awfully quiet the last few days, Harry."

"Hmm."

"Graham?"

"Yes…no." He sighed.

"Harry…"

"I talked to him for a long time yesterday. It brought up a lot of things that I'm not proud of. I can't help thinking…" he trailed off, afraid of how to finish the sentence.

They were silent for a long time. Ruth knew he would find the words in his own time.

"The fact is I'm terrified," he admitted in barely above a whisper.

She turned around in his arms so she could look into his face.

"I was a horrible father, and an even worse husband…"

"You're doing alright so far this time around…"

He was totally perplexed.

"Harry, we may not have a piece of paper, but we've been married for a long time now." She took his face in her hands, and continued,

"I'm not Jane. I'm not giving up on you, us…and I'll be damned if I let you give up on yourself."

She pulled his head down to hers and kissed him hard.

"I think it's time to give you one of your Christmas presents," and she led him upstairs.

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	5. Chapter 5

It was still dark when Ruth awoke. She was comfortable, warmed by Harry sleeping deeply beside her. Her brain foggy from sleep, it took a few moments of concentration before she recalled that it was Christmas morning. She reflected fondly on the night before…decorating the tree, getting Harry to open up about the Graham situation, and all that followed. She had made a good choice when she bought that red lingerie…

No longer sleepy, she was debating with herself whether or not to go downstairs and make some coffee or lay in a bit longer when her bed companion's nightmare started. The rhythm of Harry's breathing changed, and suddenly it was if he were running. He started to tremble, and he was mumbling. She pulled him to her, caressing his face and whispering soothing sounds into his ear. It was over almost as soon as it had begun. She kissed him lightly on the temple, and he slept on.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Breakfast was coffee and muffins in front of the tree. Harry hadn't been this contented on Christmas since he was a child. Ruth was in some woolen socks and an old dressing gown, and he thought her radiant.

"Would you like your Christmas present now?" he asked her.

"Yes, please." Harry had refused so much as a glimmer of a hint as to what he got her, so she was naturally very curious. He padded into his study, and came back with a small parcel, wrapped in green paper. He gave her a soft kiss as he handed her the gift, and watched intently as she opened it.

"Oh, Harry…"

"Do you like it?"

"I love it." She turned the pages of the small volume of love poetry reverently.

"I thought it would be a little more articulate than I could be."

Her eyes glistened, and she laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You found this at _? I very nearly bought this for you, and I was very cross when I went back to buy it and found out it was gone."

She kissed him.

"Thank you." She pulled out an envelope that was stashed behind the tree. Her previous smugness was gone; suddenly she was worried he wouldn't like her gift. She

needn't have worried, though. He was awestruck as he pulled out the tickets.

"Paris."

"It's not the Grand Tour, but it's something," she was apologetic.

"It's wonderful, Ruth. But what about New York?"

"We'll get there, eventually. Maybe for the honeymoon?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Let go take a walk."

"Harry, have you forgotten that Catherine and Stephen are coming for dinner?"

"We still have time."

"Coming from someone who's not cooking!"

"You have turned down my offers to help. I promise we will be back in plenty of time, and I will help you in whatever way you need." He held up her coat, and she couldn't resist the pleading look on his face.

They were walking hand in hand, in silence. The air was crisp, and the ground was covered with a thin rime of snow. There were times in the past that he would've been unnerved by the quiet but with Ruth, he didn't feel the need to always have to fill in the space with witty comments or insightful remarks. They could be in their own thoughts, but still together.

"What was your nightmare about this morning?" Her voice cut through the chilly air.

"I don't remember. It's just an impression, really. Blind panic, mostly. Probably because I couldn't get to you." She looked at him quizzically.

"That's usually what it boils down to," he continued. "I either can't find you, or save you, or have let you down somehow…"

She snuggled closer to him and thought herself very lucky.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Much later that evening, and they were both curled up on the couch, surveying the aftermath of Christmas. Bits of wrapping paper and empty wine glasses were Dinner had been a success; Catherine and Stephen had stayed much later than they had originally planned. Harry was certain that he would hear about that later from Jane. Graham had showed up on the doorstep, shy and tentative, but his sister's presence made things a little less awkward than they might have ordinarily been. Ruth was pleased that he actually came. She spent the afternoon watching him and Harry interact. It was tense at times, but Harry gave his son a big hug when he left. Both Pearce men were stubborn, and it would take some time, but Ruth was optimistic that the future for them would be better than the past had been.

Ruth moved to start cleaning up, but Harry held her fast to him.

"Don't…stay here awhile. You've done enough today." He kissed her hair.

They both contemplated the tree. Ruth took up her present from Catherine. It was a photograph of her and Harry that Catherine had taken one day when they were out on the Heath. It had been a bright day, and Catherine had one of her cameras with her to take some landscape shots. She had managed to catch the both of them in perfect contentment; someone had said something funny, and both were smiling with their eyes.

"Do you want to have children, Ruth?"

She was taken aback.

"What makes you ask that?"

"Well, it's been known to happen…" he smiled devilishly.

"I also know you miss Nico, and I saw your reaction to the kids' ornaments. I want you to be happy, Ruth, and if a child or children will do it, then I'll do whatever I can."

"I know it's old fashioned, but I think we need to be married first, Harry."

"Well, I'm ready when you are."

_**MERRY CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!**_


End file.
